


The Love We Needed Then

by Wizardheart83 (Plant_Murderer)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Other, Pensieves, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-26 12:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12557876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plant_Murderer/pseuds/Wizardheart83
Summary: With their wedding fast approaching, the trio sits down with a pensieve, and a task: To share what they never have before, and to begin their life together with direct knowledge of how much each of them needs and values the love that binds them.





	1. Chapter 1

“Do we really have to do this?” Ron sighed as he sat down at the table. The pensieve was set up and waiting.  

Harry and Hermione were already seated, had been for ages, doing that thing they sometimes did, where their thoughts seemed to fly side by side, tossing one point or another back and forth in sighs and glances. (It was related to the thing that he did with Harry, but not the same. He and Harry talked when they did it, and it was always a shorter exchange, just because Ron favored solutions over brooding in all but the direst of circumstances.)  Ron’s question brought them out of their silent conversation.  

“We don’t have to,” Hermione replied, “not if you’re against it, but I thought-” 

“It’s not me,” Ron interrupted. “It’s you two.  You’ve both been so quiet since you set that thing there. I’m fine. I don’t care one way or another, but clearly you both do. I don’t want anything that hurts my best friends.”  

“We’re getting married in a week,” Harry pointed out, a smile making its slow dawn on his face before he laughed at his own silliness and continued. “We’re at least your fiancés. I want to do this. I never want to hide from you. I want to know anything you want to tell me.”  

Hermione took Harry’s hand in hers even as Ron nearly upset the small table in his dive for a kiss. It’d been about a year, but the novelty of being allowed to kiss Harry had yet to fade, for either of them.  Harry grinned when Ron pulled away. He turned to Hermione.  

“Do you still want to do it?” Harry asked her.  

“Of course,” Hermione replied. “I want to know what you were like. I want to have you there in my memories, in so many ways.”  

Hermione paused, collecting her thoughts before taking one of Ron’s hands in hers and smiling as Ron completed the triangle, taking Harry’s free hand in his, out of habit.  

“I think that I needed you before I had you,” Hermione said softly, “before the troll walked into the bathroom, before you had each other even. I think that we all needed this love before it was ours. I want to know that for sure; I want us to remember it always.”  

“Alright, then.” Ron said. “Memories that we haven’t shared before, because my best friends – don’t correct me, you’ll never stop being my best friends- are melodramatic gits. Who’s up first?”   

“I’ll go,” Hermione said decisively, pulling her hands from theirs. “This was my idea.”  

Harry and Ron nodded and watched as she brought her wand to her temple and pulled out a strand of memory, bright and shining. She swirled it into the Pensieve and looked happier to have it out. Ron shared a glance with Harry, but together they let themselves lean forward and down, until they fell, mind and heart, into the memory. Hermione followed, just a breath behind them. 

* * *

 

They found themselves outside; in a playground at a muggle school.  It was a bright day on the edge of spring, and children had left sweaters in the grass at the edge of the playground or hanging on fences. Several were sprawled out, looking at the sky and taking joy in the rare sunny afternoon.  

Harry and Ron wandered around, looking for Hermione’s face in the group. They heard her first; a high smaller version of her voice, and they turned and walked towards it, while the older Hermione followed, watching.  

The younger version was sitting with three or four other girls in a patch of shade around a tree, rambling about something she’d read as they played with loops of string that seemed to be laces from their shoes. 

“This is a Cat’s Eye figure, I read all about them. People all over the world play games just like this, can you imagine it? And they've played them for ages; a thousand years, millions of girls all playing games like ours! Fascinating!”  

Hermione watched her fiancés’ faces, noting with some pleasure how Ron’s smile had gone soft and warm, and the brightness of Harry’s eyes as he tried not to laugh. She could relive this now. These people loved her.  

“It’s not,” one of the girls said suddenly, grabbing harshly at the string twined around Hermione’s fingers. “It never is. Why can’t we talk about something fun? You never make any sense at all, they're just too nice to say.”  

“I thought it was fun,” Hermione said, now sounding quite uncertain. “I didn’t mean to-” 

“Stop talking,” another girl said suddenly. “You always talk  and it doesn’t mean anything. Especially in class. You’re a teacher's pet.”  

One by one the other girls joined in, and the younger Hermione looked more and more confused and hurt, until finally she stood and walked away, not seeing how the bag she’d left hanging on a low tree branch disappeared, or feeling it's weight as it reappeared on her back. She sped to a run.  

The older Hermione took off after her, and Ron and Harry ran too.  

“I’ve met acromantula that were friendlier than that lot,” Ron said.  

Harry shrugged and focused his eyes ahead, “kids are terrible sometimes, especially when they don’t understand. You weren’t exactly extending a hand in friendship when you first met her.”  

“I’m going to spend my life with her, I think I can be forgiven a few weeks of being terrible. None of them can say that,” Ron shot back.  

“They aren’t the point,” Hermione called back to them. They were running through hallways in the school until they came to a stop at the doors of the library. “Not the whole point, anyway.” 

Young Hermione stood in the library and took a deep breath. A smile formed on her face, a sad one that made Harry think about times both dire and mundane. That was the smile she’d grow up to wear when she talked about her parents, in the forest of Dean. It was the smile she'd someday wear after meetings with the older, more intractable ministry officials. 

“That’s it,” Hermione said, fascinated. “That is the moment when I looked on everything I loved; the library and what it meant, on my house with all its books, my parents who loved that I loved knowledge too. In this moment I saw all of that and decided that those girls, who I’d thought of as my friends for years, didn’t matter. They didn’t understand, and they wouldn’t let me explain or apologize. They could not properly see me, so they didn’t matter. I was nice enough after that, but I knew what I knew, and if other people had a problem with that, I tried to remember that they didn’t matter either.”  

The memory froze and Hermione looked up at Harry and Ron as it changed.  

This time Harry recognized the room, but Ron pointed out Hermione standing beside a wall of flames. They were in the troll room, in the long corridor of tests that had guarded the sorcerer’s stone. 

 “Ok, so what’s this?” Ron asked, watching the memory of Hermione take several deep breaths, only to gag a little at the smell of the troll.  

“I could have lost you both here,” Hermione said distantly. “Ron, you’d been knocked out and I had no way to know if that chess piece had hurt you more badly than we’d seen. Harry, I’d just seen you walk through fire into still more danger, possibly right into Voldemort’s hands. And what I said to you? About friendship and bravery being more important than books and cleverness? I’d felt it for ages, I just hadn’t known how true it was, how brilliant it could be… I’d trusted Ron to get through the chess game and then you trusted me to get through the riddle, and go back to help Ron. If this day had been different, if we hadn’t been who we were, we’d have died, and so would a lot of people. Voldemort was within the wards of Hogwarts, even without the stone it could have been terrible, but you both saw me. You let me explain, even after my panic with the devil’s snare. You let me see you. That mattered. Our friendship saved everything.”  

The Hermione in the memory crossed the room and went off to see to Ron. The three let her go, as Harry and Ron looked at the present-day Hermione in awe. She left the memory and the other two followed, still staring at her.  

She leaned forward and kissed Harry, finding in his touch a home that could not be shaken, a heat that could never be chilled, and a light that was her sun.  

She kissed Ron and was met with challenges she’d never put to rest, a tempest that could not fail to leave her breathless, and the fire that fed her soul.  

“My life,” she said finally, “could have been fine, and nice, and short without you two, but it’s this instead. Every day, you save me, every part of who we are matters.”  

Harry and Ron seemed dizzy with that, and they took long moments to process what she’d said before Ron spoke.  

“So which of us is going to have to follow that,” Ron said, “because I vote Harry.”  

Hermione swatted half-heartedly in his direction and Harry laughed.  

“Just for that I think you should go next,” Harry said. When Hermione nodded her agreement, Ron groaned, but got to work preparing his chosen memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this a while ago, but wanted it mostly finished before starting to post it. It isn't long at all, but I hope you like it. Thanks so much for reading, and for any kudos or comments.


	2. Chapter 2

At first glance, the Burrow looked as it always did. Harry stood inside Ron's memory and stared, trying pick out differences. The shutters were drawn and there were pumpkins in the garden. Smoke rose in a steady stream from the chimney.  Ron had brought them into a cold fall morning. Harry looked to Hermione, who looked on the home of their soon-to-be in-laws fondly.  

Ron watched them, warm inside at the way they loved the home that his parents had made, but there'd be other times for that. 

"Come on," Ron urged. "Didn't bring you to show you the house."  

He took one of each of his lovers' hands and pulled them into the garden.  

"I wanted to start here, just so you know what's coming," Ron said. Then he nodded pointedly, looking ahead. Harry and Hermione followed his gaze, and Hermione inhaled sharply. Harry couldn't find it in himself to blame her. Ron had indicated a small boy, no more than five or six years old.    

His face was drawn into pout as he looked up at the house, shielded from the worst of the wind by a large pumpkin.  His eyes narrowed before he turned his back on the house and settled in to sulk.  

The world around them blurred and when it came into focus, they were in Ron's room. If it hadn't been for the freckled, sleepy little boy sitting up in the bed, they might not have recognized the place. There were fewer posters and the walls were papered in a soft yellow with red suns and clouds dancing side to side in horizontal lines. Outside, the sky was the pale dark of early morning. Harry looked at the small version of his lover and best friend, and felt a rush of affection.   

"Does your mum have pictures of you this small?" Harry asked as the thought occurred to him. "Look at you."  

Ron blushed and murmured, "I'll ask. Never thought about it." 

"You were precious," Hermione said, and kissed his cheek as it reddened further.  

The memory blurred again.  

Ron was dressed and out of bed this time, and the present-day Ron, Harry, and Hermione followed him out of the room and down the next landing. They stopped in front of Ginny's door. The Ron from the memory peered inside the partially open doorway. Ron waved for his lovers to do the same. 

Hermione fought back a cooing sound at the sight of a small, sleepy, Ginny. The girl was smiling into her knees as she sat on her bed, her mother brushing her long red hair. It was a sweet moment, but they’d come to see Ron.  

She looked down at the small boy, his eyes wide and his hand tense on the door. Would he go in? As if in answer, Ron shook his head. He backed out carefully and went down to the next landing. Arthur was standing in the doorway to Fred and George’s room. He laughed as they moved around, making their beds and telling him a story that they’d missed the beginning of. He gave Ron an idle pat on the shoulder. The twins carried on as if they hadn’t seen him. Ron waved but Arthur gave no further notice, and his brothers were caught up in their recitation. 

Ron didn’t stop at Percy’s room. The door was shut. 

“Probably reading _Hogwarts: a History_ _,”_ the older Ron murmured. “He started the next year.”   

Ron did stop at the room Bill and Charlie had shared. He leaned against the door and sighed, looking smaller than they’d ever seen him.  

"Away at school," Ron explained, his expression darkening as he watched his younger self continue down and sit by himself near the low fire in the hearth, half-heartedly waving a toy wand that didn't seem to do anything. The scene blurred again. 

Harry jumped as the memory was suddenly much louder. Time had clearly passed and the family was at the breakfast table.  Hermione stepped forward, watching the younger Ron closely, but Harry stepped back and took their lover's hand.  

Ron gave him a quick smile half smile, but it didn't meet his eyes. Harry leaned against him, offering warmth and a moment's connection.  Ron pulled away bringing their joined hands up and pressing his lips to their interlaced fingers.  

Harry wanted to do something for him. Ron understood, so he gave him a task. 

"Watch," Ron directed, and Harry did. The younger Ron was quiet and seemed bored through breakfast. He frowned into his food until George noticed and caught his eye. The older boy proceeded to flick a bit of toast at Percy, before looking to Ron expectantly. With the beginnings of a smile, Ron did the same.  They went back and forth for a few rounds, until their mum stopped them with a sharp look.  

After breakfast, Ron walked over to George. The combination of hope, and certainty of welcome on his face made Hermione's heart hurt a little. This was meant to be a memory to show them that Ron had needed them, and she'd seen how this ended. There was only one way that this could go. 

"Will you play with-" Ron began, but was cut off as Fred ran up with an empty box and a toy broom. George's expression turned speculative, and Ron made a quick exit, darting over to his mother and younger sister.  

"Wanna play snitch and seeker?" Ron asked Ginny. Molly shook her head.  

"She can't, dear. We're going to go visit Luna and her mum," she explained. "Ginny has to get ready."  

Hermione brought a hand up to her mouth and moved to stand next to Harry, murmuring, "here it comes." 

Ron's face was flashing through a series of emotions. His face went a bit red and his small fists clenched hard as his side just a moment before he snapped. 

“You were supposed to be a boy!” he shouted at Ginny, stomping his foot. "It's not fair!"  

Ginny burst into tears and Molly bent to comfort her, sending Arthur a sharp look.  

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Arthur scolded, "What's gotten into you?" 

Ron looked at him. His mouth was open as if to yell, or cry. In the end he made a sort of contained scream in his throat and stormed out of the kitchen, and out of the house. Harry, the older Ron, and Hermione followed him, walking into the memory where they'd begun. The memory paused, and Ron turned to Harry and Hermione. 

 "With seven of us," Ron said, "you'd think there'd be someone for everyone, all the time. There could be, right? There's enough of us, but it doesn't work like that. It's no-one's fault. Mum and dad didn't plan it. It just happened. Bill and Charlie are closer to each other than to Percy.  Fred and George are Gred and Feorge, and anyone else is always a few steps behind them, or off to the side. Ginny was the only girl, so she got new things all the time, and play-dates with Luna, and time with mum doing girly things.  Maybe Percy could have spent time with me, but... he's Percy. Less of git now than he's ever been, but not a great fit all the same. I grew up watching the twins be the twins, and I didn't have anyone like that. Then I went to Hogwarts, and I had you."  

The scene blurred again, as Harry and Hermione both stepped closer to Ron but he raised a hand to stop them. He pointed, and they looked around.  

They were standing in a forest.  The forest of Dean, Harry realized. Then he saw Ron, wandering around, occasionally pulling out the deluminator before stowing it away again.  

"I gave you up a couple of times," Ron said frowning a little. "I stormed off, because of being a stupid, jealous kid, because I felt like you wanted adventure more than me, or your cat more than me, or each other more than me. Merlin's beard Harry, the things you've had to say for me. You told me you loved her like a sister, remember? After the locket." 

"To be fair," Harry said, "I thought you two were going to be together and didn't want me. 'Sister' was a way to have what I could have.  I didn't know 'wife' would be on offer. We were both stupid kids."   

Hermione nodded sagely, then chuckled with them before adding, "I was a bit unimaginative myself." 

  "My point, I guess," Ron continued, "is that whenever I'm a stupid jealous git, there's always someone there to let me back in."  

Around them, scenes flashed. A small Ron being greeted at his door with frustrated affection and a steaming mug of tea; a seventeen-year-old Ron with Harry's hand on his shoulder as they talked, a few other smaller reconciliations both familiar and not passed by them before Ron led them out of the pensieve. 

"I belong with you," Ron told them, blushing a bit, "first and forever. I get caught up sometimes, but you're there when I get my head right. We fit like we were made for this, and it's everything I need."  

He kissed Hermione, and then Harry, each with such passion that Hermione stood, as if contemplating a move to their bedroom. It was only the look on Harry's face as his kiss with Ron ended that made her sit down.  There was a lingering sadness in his eyes. 

"We can do this tomorrow," Ron said, and Hermione knew that he'd seen it too. He took Harry's hand and continued. "We've been through a lot tonight. I don't want to hurt you; I meant that before."  

"I want to do it," Harry argued. "I love you both, and you've given me so much. It's ok that it's not easy."  

Ron nodded, and took his memories from the pensieve, placing them back into his head.  

"Do you know what you want to show us?" Hermione asked. Harry thought for a couple of minutes before bringing his wand to his temple. Without another word, he began to pull out the moments that could show them his heart.  

He placed the memories, one by one inside the basin and, determined flash of his eyes, dove into them, with Ron and Hermione following moments later.  


	3. Chapter 3

For a long time, they fell. Brief moments came into view but failed to properly resolve into full memories.  The inside of the cupboard under the stairs, Dudley beating up a small brunette boy, the seat next to Harry in primary school that was never filled after that, fragments of things that Ron and Hermione couldn't properly catch hold of; they glimpsed it all before they settled.  

They'd landed on a roadside in the middle of summer. It was raining lightly, and there was a smallish, dark haired, little boy with glasses that were more tape than frame walking down the road away from them. He had a backpack on that seemed too big for him, and it was patched badly. His sleeves and the legs of his shorts had been rolled several times.  

Ron ran ahead to look at him from the front. It took one look at the boy's face for Ron to understand what was happening.  

"You ran away? You never said!" Ron exclaimed, sounding more proud than anything.  Harry nodded taking larger steps and catching up to Ron.  

"It didn't stick," Harry replied. "Besides, all things considered, I left the Dursleys in loads more interesting ways than this. Just waited for my aunt to let me out of the cupboard. I'd been locked in for most of the  week before this. At the time, it was the longest punishment I'd ever had." 

Ron blinked at that, torn between a desire to find Harry's relatives and a desire to make sure that Harry knew how unusual his punishments had been. The moment passed while he tried to reconcile the two, and he let it go. It was more interesting to watch a small Harry, staring up at the sky as he walked as if storing the whole of it inside himself for later.  

For a while, it was a pleasant walk. The younger Harry was a curious and friendly little boy. He greeted strangers politely as he passed, and stopped now and again to pet dogs being walked, or peer into back gardens when he thought he'd heard something interesting. Every step seemed to make him more confident, and Hermione smiled as he seemed to become more and more recognizably the person that she loved.  

Just when she'd started to wonder why Harry had chosen this memory, a car backfired a street over. Startled, the boy ran a few steps before bumping into the legs of an older woman. He fell back and looked up.  

"Ms. Figg," The older and younger Harry's said at the same time. The Harry in the memory added, "Is Boots all better now?"  

The woman seemed surprised by the question for a moment before she replied, "She was, but then her favorite little boy went missing, and she's worrying herself sick." 

"Tell her I'm fine, and I'll visit someday," Harry said standing up and moving to walk around Ms. Figg. Ron laughed at his nerve, even as Ms. Figg reached out and grabbed his arm.  

"You have to go back," Ms. Figg said. "She won't believe until she's seen you. Besides, where would you go?"  

"Somewhere with nice people," Harry said. He was a child, and desperation sounded like whining on a good day, but something in his tone shattered Hermione.  "Somewhere good. No more cupboard." 

"You won't always be there," Ms. Figg said. "You'll grow up and you'll leave and make your own way, but you have to go back." 

Harry took off running but his shoes were too big, and the ground was wet. He tripped a few paces away.  

"NO, No!" Harry shouted as Ms. Figg hurried over and took his arm. He slipped from her grasp but she caught him again before he could stand. 

"Where would you go, Harry?" Ms. Figg asked as he struggled in her grip and started to cry. "to what friends? What family? The Dursley's are all that you have."  

Harry cried harder, and the older Harry reached out for Ron's hand but found himself being suddenly held between his fiancés though both had turned their heads to keep watching.  

"Come now, stop those tears," Ms. Figg scolded, and Ron had never wanted to hit someone so much in his life. "You can spend the day at my house. We’ll call your aunt so she doesn't worry, and you can show Boots that you're fine and pet the other cats." 

Harry was still shaking his head no, even as he allowed himself to be pulled back up the street by his wrist.  

“They aren’t good! They call me names. They don't even like me!” he argued, tugging ineffectually against her hold. “Lemme go. I’ll make friends. I can!”  

“You don’t have them now,” Ms. Figg said firmly. “You’ve nowhere else to go. Your home is with your aunt. You're lucky I found you.” 

The world blurred, and it was evening when Ms. Figg let Harry lead  the way from her house to his aunt's. Ron and Hermione released their hold on Harry for just long enough to take his hands. Harry looked at them and smiled weakly, because he knew how much they wanted to free his younger self from that moment and all the ones to follow.  

The smile left his face as the younger version of him reached the front door.  He rang the bell and, after a while. His aunt came to the door.  

Petunia Dursley didn't say a word, just stepped aside, and pointed at something just out of sight.  

"It's the cupboard under their stairs," Harry explained, reluctantly, in response to Hermione's questioning glance. "She wanted me to go back." 

Ron's eyes widened as he watched Harry walk inside without any attempt to argue.   

“Who is that kid,” Ron asked, ignoring the small talk being passed between Petunia Dursley and Ms. Figg. “Why does he look like you?” 

“I had no choice,” Harry said, defensive. “What friend had I ever made and kept? Where would I have gone? I didn’t have money or know about magic.” 

“How long were you in there, after this?” Hermione asked. The memory pulled them into the house, just in time to watch Petunia swat Harry’s hand with her own. He looked bored, resigned as she directed him to lie down on his cot and closed the door.  

“Two weeks,” Harry replied. “Out for meals and the loo, and some chores when Dudley complained that I didn’t have any.”  

He saw something in her face that made him add, “it’s not as bad as you think. I didn’t want to see them either. I had food and things. I was bored, not scared. Someday, I told myself, I’d make friends, and things would be better. Four years later, the next time I ran away, I had help.”  

Ron laughed and gave him a pat on the back, sighing fondly.  

“It was brilliant,” he agreed, and expected to leave the memory, but the world blurred and they fell through time again, a disorienting rush of half remembered concepts pulling them around until, at last, the motion stopped. 

They were at Hogwarts, Hermione realized. Of the three of them, she'd been to the headmaster's office the least , but with the portrait of Albus Dumbledore looking down towards the floor, where else could they be?  The other frames were empty. When was this happening? Where was Harry?  

Hermione looked around. Harry stood beside her, staring out through a window, and Ron was-  

She gasped and went to her knees beside Ron. The Harry in the memory had collapsed onto the floor, taking deep fast breaths as his eyes, open and darting, chased thoughts that Hemione couldn't fathom.  

Ron turned and gripped her shoulders, unable to properly touch the Harry in the memory.  

"When was this?" Ron asked.  

"I was dying," Harry told them. "I'd just learned that I'd maybe been dying for years and not known it. Every choice I made, every choice Voldemort, Snape, and Dumbledore made, had turned me into someone who could not, at this moment, turn and run until I hit water and had to start swimming. I never even thought about doing that until maybe three quarters of the way into a sandwich after it was over. I had friends and a family, this was the only thing that I could do.”  

Harry’s eyes landed on Dumbledore, who watched the Harry in the memory with profound love and pain in his painted face. He turned and looked at Hermione and Ron. 

“I loved you, but my death was needed, so I was as good as dead, " he told then, a forced calm in his voice did little to mask the whirl of emotions in his eyes as he continued. "I'd never kissed you and never would, but I was going to die for you, and all of them, but you not in the least. We were done, here, before we'd even started."  

The Harry in the memory stood with purpose. Ron felt small looking up at him. This was a Harry that they'd never seen. It felt strange look at him. He wanted to wrap him in blankets and give him tea, and possibly to imperius him into swimming the channel and starting a new life somewhere warm and lovely.  

Knowing that it wouldn't have worked didn't change the desire to try it anyway.  

Ron stood, helping Hermione to her feet. 

"Last bit's wrong," Ron said as they followed Harry on his walk down to the forest. "If we were done, you wouldn't have brought us here now. You wouldn't do this for nothing."  

Hermione looked at Ron, her eyes widening a little.  

Ron mouthed 'always the tone of surprise', while he took Harry's hand and waited for a reply.  

It didn't come until they'd reached the forest.  

As they passed with the memory into the shadow of the trees, Harry spoke again.  

"There's more to life than need," Harry said quietly. "I didn't need you here. I had the stone, and my parents. I knew that you were safe in the castle, and could protect each other. If I could have seen and talked to you though, if I could have had you here and still walked to meet my death and not fight it.... I'd have wanted you with me."  

Hermione threw her arms around him, tears working their way down her face as the enormity of what he'd done settled on her, as she understood that she'd nearly lost him without so much as a final goodbye. She'd known it, but seeing it, feeling it, was something different.   

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "We can stop. I can pick another memory." 

"You didn't know you'd have a future," Ron said. "But you did, and it was all there, just waiting in that moment. We were there, just out of sight."  

Hermione nodded, and pressed her face to Ron's briefly. They walked after the other Harry until he stopped, whispered his fate, and cast what would have been his last spell - lumos.  He turned the stone three times and they watched as the figures appeared.  

Unconsciously the moved into an arch, completing the circle around the Harry in the memory.  

Hermione looked at Lily Potter and was struck by how beautiful she'd been, and how young. To see James Potter was strange as well, so like his son, but different in key ways. A fresh wave of tears came, to see Sirius and Remus, looking so you much younger and happier than they'd ever seemed in life.  

When the time came to walk to meet Voldemort, the phantoms of Harry's past and future mingled at his back. The older Harry couldn't hold his eyes on anyone in particular, enthralled by the sight of his future wife walking beside his mother and his best teacher as his future husband walked with his father and Godfather.  So many people, living and dead, had loved him. He'd known that, but to see it was a miracle beyond comprehension.  

The memory blurred just before they would have come to the death eaters that had been scouting in the area.  

They left the pensieve, and Ron and Hermione immediately stood to fold Harry into their arms again, but he was smiling now. Harry brushed the tears from Hermione's face, and then Ron's, his green eyes wide.  

"Can we elope?" Harry asked. "I can't wait anymore." 

Hermione surged forward and kissed him, more a light brush of their lips as they laughed together than anything.  

Ron was grinning as he nipped Harry's ear and kissed his cheek.  

"Mum, Ginny, and Fleur would kill us," he said, shaking his head.  "and if they didn't Percy would. He's been working on those seating charts for a month." 

"We could do both," Harry argued. "Elope in the muggle world, and then have the proper wedding.  I'm not going to get tired of marrying you, I promise."  

"The rehearsal tomorrow will have to tide you over, mate," Ron said. "I'd do anything for you, but I'd rather not upset mum if we don't have to." 

Harry and Hermione nodded, and the three of them went off to prepare for bed.  

 A week later, gathered with their friends and family, they stood before an official from the ministry.  

"Do you, Harry James Potter, Ron Bilius Weasley, and Hermione Jane Granger,  choose to be bound together through this life, in the eyes of the ministry, and wizarding world, and in sight of those whom you hold dearest?"  

"I do," they said as one.  

"Do you do this freely and open heartedly, desiring to remain together in sickness and health, in times of wealth and in scarcity, and through whatever the joys and trials that may come?"  

"I do," they said again.  

"Do you, as you yourselves have written, vow that who you are will always matter and be cherished, that the place you hold cannot be broken or cast aside, and that you will love and be loved even unto death, never alone, never unseen, never beyond the reach of those who make you whole?" 

"I do," they said a final time.  

"Be bound by your words, and may your vows hold true.  I invite you to seal them as you wish," The official said.  

The three of them kissed, as their families cheered, wept, and laughed. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been keeping their vows through the best and worst parts of their lives already, and they each knew that they could do nothing less than hold to them in the days and years to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading this. Hope you enjoyed it. Kudos and comments are deeply appreciated, so thanks to anyone who has or will leave them. 
> 
> also: To anyone starting Nanowrimo today, I wish you luck and inspiration. You can do this.


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